I sometimes think my blog posts are like episodes of the show Full House. There is the naughty/cheeky Uncle Jesse element. There is the “want to be funny with my one-liners” Uncle Joey element. There is the childlike wonderment at everything, like Michelle. There are the other characters too, here and there. And then, there is the Danny Tanner element, which sort of makes it all happen. Danny Tanner is the cleaner-upper here, or the unconscious content editor/proofreader. He makes sure that there is some structure in all this chaotic family of ideas, but, annoyingly, he also makes sure there is some moral lesson to be had at the end of the day/post, like he did at the end of every show. I just wish there was much more Uncle Jesse instead.

The best part about trying to create literature is, you’re not required to follow any rules. Literature is only interested in what is, what was, and what could be, not what should be. That is what the social and pure scientists are for. You don’t need any resources for this job, other than the fact that you should be alive while doing it. It would be more difficult to type if you were dead.

Now, with such freedom, why can’t I help myself from trying to be a pseudo-scientist? I am astonished by the amount of advice I dole out here. The Uncle Jesse in me is outraged! Because, of course, I hardly follow much of it. I’ve told you before about how I’ve been going through my back catalogue for my blog-book. Though I’ve been always aware of my tendency to tie things together, to finish with something positive, and all-in-all, make sure people take away something good and relevant from it, I am uncomfortable at my tendency to frequently descend into preachiness. And, it renders hypocritical, because I can hardly live up to the high standards I ask from the rest of mankind (or the handful of people who read this blog).

It is a curious position to be in. I am excellent with working other people’s problems out, and absolutely hopeless and incompetent with my own. Not that blogging has to be the platform to work things out, but it just goes to show that knowing what is right, and doing what is right, are quite scarcely the same. And that was another ‘pearl of frequently rehashed wisdom’ for you right there, the Danny Tanner moment of the day.

I suppose, despite being critical of the idea, I do want some sort of honesty in what I do here. I’ve come to believe that curiosity is my one true talent, and I especially apply it to people. I’ve just always been interested in people. Why they do the things they do, why they are the way they are. And because I happen to study my own species without any formal code of research that I would have followed had I been an actual scientist, I end up caring for them. I really, genuinely, want them to do better. I mainly use myself as a subject, a representative, but that is merely because as a writer, you either have that as your subject, or the people around you. And because I choose to never drag people in my life into what I do without their permission, my only subject for study is myself. Experiments, inferences, and I suppose, a certain amount of redundancy, are all to be expected of such a subject.

What do you think? Should I continue with the Danny Tannerisms of my posts? Do I dare disturb the universe with my partially-baked ideas on how to make it better? Do you think they are any good, or are they the part that make you cringe the most? Should I be all coolly existential instead, complete with an imaginary cigarette and a black-and-white photographic self-image, spouting ideas like “life is meaningless” and “Oh, what’s the point of writing and blogging? We are all going to die!”?

Whatever you say, remember this: never go back and look at something you built. Whether it’s a self-important beast of a blog, or the Taj Mahal, don’t look back. Those things are long gone, a dream. Once part of you, but have long ceased to be anything that resembles you. Don’t Look Back.